


"And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil..."

by notyourhousekeeper



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Hannibal (TV), Sherlock (TV), Supernatural, Torchwood
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2015-10-03
Packaged: 2018-04-23 15:33:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4882189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notyourhousekeeper/pseuds/notyourhousekeeper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It's strange, isn't it? How easy just simple occassions can bring so many lifes together."</p><p>- "This is just what life is about, Will."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Black Out

**Author's Note:**

> Well hello everybody!
> 
> Please read this, before you go on.
> 
> Before anything happens, I'd like to make clear, that every single word in this story is just fiction. Nothing else. Just the expression of thoughts in my strange mind.  
> And the other thing: If you have comprehension problems, here you have a little list, at which point of each series the story takes in:
> 
> \- Hannibal: It takes place in, let's say, the half of S1, to set a point. Actually, the story is slightly different to the series' plot.
> 
> \- Supernatural: I would advise S6 as a starting point, as Dean starts to haunt with Sam again. Although this work might change the happenings in heaven a little.
> 
> \- Sherlock: This work is basically independent from the series' story, but if you'd like to have a specific point, I would say S1 or S2. 
> 
> \- Torchwood: Actually the same thing. It's rather independent from the real plot, but I would set it in S1.
> 
> Okay, enough said now. Enjoy! :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _A sigh escaped Will’s mouth, full of relief. So he had just lost a couple of hours. So far so good._
> 
> _„This wasn’t the first time?“, Hannibal asked._
> 
> _Will hesitated, but nodded then in honesty._
> 
> _„Why haven’t you told me?“_
> 
> _„Because I thought it wouldn’t matter.“, Will answered, barely audible._
> 
> _„It does. Nothing is unimportant when it’s about you.“, Hannibal said._

„Will? Will? Can you hear me?“  


With a gasp like going up from diving, he returned back to reality. He didn’t notice, he’s slipped in a day-dream world. Again.

Will needed a few heartbeats before his senses restarted their activity and he was able to see and think clear again. His head ached as fuck and he felt like he could black out every moment. A panic attack started to emerge inside of him, but the very gaze of bright green eyes, fixed on his own, was enough to reassure him, that he was safe.

He was with Hannibal. He was safe.

And for a moment, this was all he needed to know.

„Yeah. Yeah, I’m alright.“, Will answered, after he realized, that Hannibal asked him a question. It actually was a lie, but either Hannibal didn’t notice it or he understood Will’s caginess regarding his feelings. Whatever it was, Will was glad about it. He was definitely not in the mood for talking about stupid emotions.

Hannibal handed him a glass of water. He didn’t know he was thirsty as fuck until the first drop of water touched his lips. Suddenly the glass was empty and his headache eased a bit. This was better.

Only now, he turned his head to capture his environment. He neither recognized anything nor did he know how he got here. He was alone with Hannibal in a small bathroom, not much bigger than a broom closet, but all the more luxurious. He was wearing a suit, his best one, to be specific, and a card was pinned on his chest to identify him as Special Agent Will Graham. Not that he gave a shit about how he or everything around him looked. His geographical location was far more important.

„Where am I?“, Will asked.

„You don’t remember?“, Hannibal asked.

He shook his head, his heart starting to beat faster.

„I don’t know anything. Where I am, how I got here, I don’t even know what bloody day it is.“

Hannibal swallowed, obviously concerned.

„I brought you here because you looked alarming and didn’t react to anything I asked or said to you. I thought it was better for you to be here until it passed, whatever it was.“ He paused, swallowing again. „What is your last memory?“

Will thought about it, trying to recall his memories. First, everything was blur and he got dizzy, nearly fainted, but then there was - yes, _there!_

„You picked me up this morning. With your car. You had two coffees in your hands.“, he said.

Hannibal smiled. „Good. This was indeed this morning.“

A sigh escaped Will’s mouth, full of relief. So he had just lost a couple of hours. So far so good.

„This wasn’t the first time?“, Hannibal asked.

Will hesitated, but nodded then in honesty.

„Why haven’t you told me?“

„Because I thought it wouldn’t matter.“, Will answered, barely audible.

„It does. Nothing is unimportant when it’s about you.“, Hannibal said. Then he sighed. „If you are physically okay, I’d advise to talk about it later and to go back now, before they start to worry and ask questions.“

„They?“, he asked.

„Your Team. You have a case here. But I can drive you home if you don’t feel well.“

„No, it’s okay.“, Will said and stood up. Hannibal handed him the bottle of water, he poured in the glass. It was still half-full. Will smiled thankfully and took a deep sip.

„Can you tell me now where we actually are?“, he asked.

Hannibal smiled and opened the door, as they entered a long and huge corridor.

„Welcome to the White House, Will.“

_Welcome to the what?_

Now, Will knew why the bathroom was furnished so luxurious. Because _everything_ here was expensive, the best you can have in the whole country. The furniture as the toilet paper.

He was in the fucking White House!  

„We really have a case here?“, he asked. His voice was quiet, because he didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of all the obviously important people walking past him. His obvious confusion was quite enough.

„We were all quite surprised.“, Hannibal answered. „But I think you can imagine a reason why they chose us to solve it.“

Will frowned. Of course.

„Why are you looking like that? It’s quite an honor. Not every agent gets the chance to solve a case of national importance.“

„Neither does every psychologist.“

„Exactly“, Hannibal smiled.

„What is it about?“, Will asked as they walked along the corridor, passing politicans, governmental employees, CIA workers, NSA hackers and several other people, all rushing past them as if they were too late for free lunch.

„Assassination attempt to the president. He nearly made it. That’s why everyone is so upset. They need to find out how this was possible.“

„He nearly killed the president?“ Shock flashed through Will’s body and made him numb for a second.

„He was in the hallway to the oval office.“, Hannibal said dryly.

„Fuck.“ Will didn’t understand how Hannibal could react so calm. The president has always been a symbol of safety for him, from his childhood up to now. It had made him easier to sleep at night, to defeat his paranoia, when he was certain that there is at least one man in this world, who was safe from things like that. This hade made him feel himself safe too, comfortable somehow.

Now this illusion was gone and left nothing but fear inside of him.

„Will?“, Hannibal asked with deep concern. Probably he still wasn’t sure if Will was stable enough to get involved in the case.

„I’m alright“, he said immediately to his friend to calm him down. Hannibal just nodded and pointed one hand to the left and the other to the corridor.

„The oval office is just there“, he said, looking to the left. „And the man was shot just around the corner. So, you see it was just a matter of meters.“

„God, he really was close“, Will murmured, his body shaking a little bit. He prayed to God for Hannibal not to notice it, but God always seemed to be on vacation, when Will wanted to contact him. He couldn’t hold it against him.

He nearly saw the gears in Hannibal’s brain working as he tried to figure out the reason for Will’s sudden anxiety and the small move of his head as he found a solution.

He didn’t laugh at him, what probably everyone else would have done.

He didn’t sugarcoat it, what probably most of them would have done.

He didn’t blame him for it, what probably some of them would have done.

Instead, he just layed a hand on his cheek, slightly caressing the soft skin with his thumb and said: „You are safe, Will. You are with me.“

Will nearly lost himself in the sensation of Hannibal’s skin against his, but clearly understood the message in Hannibal’s words.

He was with Hannibal.

He was safe.


	2. The Assassine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _„That’s how we’ll label him? As a psychopath?“, Will asked._
> 
> _„Would you rather have him as a role model for political activists and inject a wave of assassinations?“, Jack countered. „How would you call him then? You were inside his mind.“_
> 
> _„I would call him a man fighting for his convictions.“_
> 
> _Jack grinned humorlessly, his tone getting louder word by word. „Fine. Do. Tell that the press. But if you do, you gotta be the one to handle all this assassination attempts to come - and maybe handle the death of the president. Can you manage that, Will? Can you?“_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Just some brief words from that nutty mind, that created this:
> 
> Firstly, I'd like to thank you for your sweet feedback. It really encouraged me to go on writing!  
> And secondly, especially regarding this chapter, I'd like to say, that this work is not based on any political motives, issues or anything that has to do with the US-american policy. It is definitely just fiction, nothing more, nothing less.
> 
> Enjoy! :)

„Ben Connelly, thirty-three, was shot by attempting an assassination to the president.“, Zeller said like he had learned it from a book. He seemed extremely pleased with himself to be in the small FBI-team, getting permission to work on a case of national importance. 

Will, actually, didn’t care at all. He didn’t feel honored or grateful. Basically, he just wanted to run away and hide himself from the world, the people and humanity’s abyss. 

But this was work. The only constant in his life, the only thing that felt normal. 

The team to solve the case consisted on Beverly, Jack, Zeller, Hannibal and him. Just five people to work on an attempted assassination, the two specialists on their way to them not counted. Will knew, they all wanted him to do his ‚empathy thing‘ as they called it. They wanted him to find out his motives, potential accomplices, and how the hell he made it into the West Wing of the best guarded building in the world.

They didn’t even need to say it out loud. Just a simple look from Jack’s face was enough. 

Will closed his eyes. The pendulum swung, slowly but constantly. 

As he opened his eyes again, he took a deep breath to adjust himself into the situation. He was now seeing the world from a different perspective. From the eyes of a killer. An assassine.

He was on the roof, unsighted, far away from guards and the Secret Service. He could see them standing still on their positions, not even daring to scratch their noses. They were everywhere, on every possible entrance to the building.

But anyway, they had forgotten the roof. What a shame. 

The killer merged with the darkness of the night. He was the darkness. 

The LED-lamps lighting up the building at night were mounted quite convenient for him, so he could easily cross the roof to the specific spot, he picked to get into the building, without attracting attention.

It was dark inside the main floor of the West Building, as he found his way in through a ventilation shaft. Calm, quiet, deliberate. Every footstep was planned, every move well considered and careful. Cautious, even. He went forward with cat-like and observant motions that for a moment, he thought he was in the body of Catwoman instead of the killer’s. But the increasing fear inside quickly disabused him from this misconception.

There were just a few offices to be still lighted and the killer eased his body tension as much to allow a smile stretching out on his lips. The less people in the house, the less possible trouble for him. 

„He’s planned it all for months, years possibly.“, Will murmured to himself. „He’s planned every single move, was adjusted to every possible scenario. Every cell of his body was focused on his, his duty, as he’d say. He felt like it was his duty as an american citizen to kill the president.“ 

He could nearly hear Jack’s gasp through the connection to his real physical body. 

The killer moved forward, the last edge in sight before he’d have made it to the office. The office. 

And the president in person.

The voice in his mind, one of the many, actually, told him, that it was too easy, but the killer shook it off. Sometimes protections were not supposed to be bypassed by complex, innovative methods. Sometimes the easiest ways were the most successful. 

„He himself had no idea how it could be so easy to come so far. He’d thought it would be harder. He allowed himself a feel of victory…“

He sped up his pace a little, let the feel of victory flood over him. It was just a matter of meters. Just some footsteps and he was there. 

„… and that was his doom.“ 

The horribly loud sound of a shot, his own silent scream and the sharp pain in his back as the bullet striked his body. Another shot. And another. 

And all of a sudden, the darkness. 

As Will had the full control of his consciousness back, he realized, how the mood in the room has changed. While previously, everyone in the room was keen on solving the case immediately and giving their best to do so, now they just sat in front of the dead assassine, silent. Even Zeller, who was more than dedicated to the case before, was pale as death. 

Nobody dared to say a word. Nobody knew what to say. 

Will knew it was his turn. 

„He was shot in the back, three bullets until he blacked out.“, Will said, his voice rough and faint. „Do we know who was the shooter?“ 

Jack’s facial expression was more than grave, as he answered. „Yes. One of the guards had finally taken notice.“ 

„Thank God for him. Don’t want to think about what we’d have found here otherwise.“, Beverly interposed. 

„Probably he’s going to be honored for saving the president’s life.“, Hannibal replied. Will noticed that neither his behaviour nor his body language had changed at all. He was still as calm and placid as always, it nearly seemed to have no impact on him. As if he didn’t care.

But the almost unnoticable trace of irony in his voice was enough to reassure him. 

Hannibal did care. Probably much more than he allowed to see. 

And for god’s sake, Will wished to have his talent to act so serene. 

„Either he had a fervor for sport or he trained for years to do his… duty, as you called it.“, Zeller said, now again fully focused on the dead body in front of him. „There’s barely a gram of fat on his body. Totally ripped.“ 

„He did it on purpose“, Will answered. „His moves were catlike. Fast and athletic. He trained his body to do just that.“

„Did he want to play Catwoman?“, Jack asked disparagingly. 

Beverly shrugged. „Look at him.“ 

 And as Will looked on the tight black battle dress, being like a second skin on the killer’s body, he didn’t think Jack’s comment to be totally wrong. 

„It probably wasn’t the character herself“, Will considered. „Maybe he just admired her powers. Melting with the shadows, to be invisible, but simultaneously so fast and fleet-footed.“ 

„That’s all I needed.“ Will’s boss sighed heavily and touched his nose with two fingers, deep in thought. „God, these psychopaths today. They’re gonna be the death of me.“, he murmured. 

„That’s how we’ll label him? As a psychopath?“, Will asked. 

„Would you rather have him as a role model for political activists and inject a wave of assassinations?“, Jack countered. „How would you call him then? You were inside his mind.“

 „I would call him a man fighting for his convictions.“

Jack grinned humorlessly, his tone getting louder word by word. „Fine. Do. Tell that the press. But if you do, you gotta be the one to handle all this assassination attempts to come - and maybe handle the death of the president. Can you manage that, Will? Can you?“ 

„I just wanted to say, that you’re judgement was quite hasty.“, Will said with clenched teeth. 

„It’s the best way, for all of us. Believe me, Will.“, his boss answered. 

„Oh, I wouldn’t call it the best thing so far.“, an intimidating voice called out from the background and all of a sudden, five heads turned around to the door.

Two men came in, simultaneously so different and so similar. One of them was dressed in a long black coat, hiding his subtile but present muscules, and a same-colored elegant button-down shirt with a dark grey tie underneath. Actually, all of him was black and dark, execpt the skin. He was probably middle-aged, grey strands of hair embellishing the black hair on his head and his chin. The other one looked a little younger and his dressing was a little more colorful. He wore a tight blue shirt underneath a grey military coat, equally long as his companions’. His eyes were bright and blue, full of warmth and mischief. 

Both brimmed over confidence as they crossed the room to meet the team. They knew what they were doing. And they showed it with every footstep, every blink of the mischievous eyes and especially with their self-assured smiles. 

„It’s probably easy to say, but certainly not the best. You’ll have to deal with copycats, no matter what.“, the elder of them said, his voice sounding the same as he looked. Deep, rough, intimidating, even a little amused. 

He was powerful. And he fucking knew how to use his power.

„I assume you are the specialists, they called for?“, Hannibal asked and focused both of their attention on him for a moment. 

„Ah, sure, where did our manners go? My name is Agent Crowley“, he pulled out his ID-badge, „and this is my assistant.“ 

„Captain Jack Harkness.“ The smile of the younger became brighter, as they shook hands with Hannibal.

„Hannibal Lecter“, Will’s Doctor said, calm and polite as always. 

„Charming“, the Captain replied and blinked. 

Who the fuck were these guys? 


	3. Something strange is going on

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _It wasn’t like him to be so quiet, calm and obedient, but in Crowley’s presence, everything was different. He knew it was wrong to bow down to a man like… whatever he was, but he couldn’t help it. He was kind of captivated, with no way out. Like he has sold his soul. Well. It wasn’t that unlikely, wasn’t it?_

„Hannibal Lecter“, the doctor introduced himself. Jack was surprised by his composure and calmness. A large amount of other human beings, he’d encountered, would have gone crazy or something. This man obviously did not and Jack was fascinated by it. 

„Charming“, he said and blinked as he always did. Whether it was intentional or not, he actually didn’t know himself. He didn’t even know if he was still himself at all. 

Then, he looked around to show his most disarming smile to the others. All of their facial expressions were marked with surprise, but here and there he could see curiosity and even deduction attempts. Cute. Like everyone they tried to find out more about him without saying a word. And like everyone, they failed.

Eventually, his gaze fell on his intriguing partner beside him. He has had met really strange creatures in his life, creatures, probably no one else in the room knew to exist, but he still wasn’t able to figure this man out. From the moment, he had met him, he had known, that something strange was going on with that guy. He looked like a usual human being, but acted like he was more than that. As if he just needed to raise a finger and all of them would be dead. Or alive. 

He was the incarnation of power. 

And he made no attempt to hide it. He liked it. He liked to manipulate people to his own convenience. He was… 

Jack swallowed subtly. God forbid. 

„An agent and a military officer, right? You don’t look so.“

A vigorous voice ripped Jack out of his thoughts and focused his attention on the man in front of him. No matter if they looked like the people they pretended to be, this man fitted the exact stereotype of an FBI-Agent. Or rather most people’s stereotype. Dark-skinned, tall and strong with a scrutinizing look and serious demeanor. The perfect image of an FBI-Agent, indicated by plenty of TV-shows or movies, people created to manipulate others. One of the both most interesting and most embarassing characteristics of human beings, he thought.

„Gentlemen“, the agent introduced himself. „Agent Jack Crawford.“

„Oh, you're running this party here?“, Crowley replied as if it was all a theatre performance, his face glowing in amusement. Just the bag of popcorn was missing.

„I wouldn’t call it like that. Albeit I don’t know what you think to be a party.“, Crawford reacted.

Well, Jack could certainly think of something, this man would see as a party. And he was even more certain in his feeling, that it was nothing good. 

Actually, his feelings and instincts told him to run away, without looking back a single time. This man wasn’t good for him at all. He knew it from the moment, Crowley addressed him on the airport and introduced himself as „a man like him“, as he said. Officially pretending to be an FBI-agent or whatsoever, but actually working secretly. He instantly knew everything about Jack, his name, his work, his history - so he couldn’t even think about refusing to work with him. 

It wasn’t like him to be so quiet, calm and obedient, but in Crowley’s presence, everything was different. He knew it was wrong to bow down to a man like… whatever he was, but he couldn’t help it. He was kind of captivated, with no way out. Like he has sold his soul. Well. It wasn’t that unlikely, wasn’t it? 

„Actually, I’ve never heard of you, Agent Crowley. What’s your division?“, Crawford asked as Crowley and Jack investigated the body in their own ways. Jack with his extraterrestrial gadgets, and Crowley with some instruments, Jack has never seen before. He could see that he was completely focused on the body, gaining information with all senses. Jack didn’t know what he was seeking, but whatever it was, but judging by his face, Crawford must have ripped Crowley out of his investigation. He could see him frown, but as he looked up to Crawford, his smug smile returned immediately. Although Crowley made no attempt to hide his annoyance behind this smile. 

„I’m the specialist for… let’s say, paranormal connections.“, Crowley answered. „Actually, I’m not specifically involved with the FBI, but who am I telling about it?“ His glimpse fell on the pale man with the glasses, standing next to Dr. Lecter. 

„What do you mean?“, Crawford asked, genuinely confused. 

„Oh, come on, don’t pretend you don’t know about your little empath in the team. Not that I have something against you, darling“, he continued, now fully addressing the man and extending his hand to him, „basically I’m quite fascinated by you. It’s a pleasure for me to meet you, Will Graham. You don’t find people with that… supernatural qualities like you every day.“

The man called Will Graham just nodded, obviously insecure of what to think of that man. If he only knew, that Jack could understand him so good. 

„What supernatural qualities?“, Jack asked with curiosity and regretted it immediately, as he saw Graham biting his lip uncomfortably. 

„Gotta tell you later.“, Crowley put him off like he was his son, but Graham cut him off. „I’m kind of an empath.“, he said with quavered voice. 

„An empath?“ Jack’s eyes went wide. 

„I can… somehow put myself in them. Killers, victims, all of them. I see what they see, do what they do, feel… what they feel.“ He trembled. 

„This is indeed extremely interesting.“, Jack said slowly. And both such a curse, he said quietely to himself. He felt pity for him and he wanted to voice it, wanted Graham to hear, but knew that he would feel uncomfortable. So he voiced it in the only way left: With his eyes. Jack fixed his eyes’ on Graham’s and received an appreciating nod. 

An awkward silence emerged after this. Nobody knew what to say. Everybody was too afraid to say something that would hurt Graham. 

Finally, Crawford broke the tranquillity. 

„Okay, now after we’ve picked enough on my staff, would you please tell me why they send agents here, who are specialized on paranormal activity? What is this here, a TV show?“ 

„I’d wish it to be.“, Graham answered. Suddenly all eyes were on him. 

„It would mean that nobody nearly killed the president in reality and all of this wouldn’t be true.“, he explained. 

Crowley made an approving gesture towards Graham. „He’s not wrong. And to answer your question, if you don’t want to have us here, go and tell the president! I’m sure he’s got some moments for you after he nearly got killed and his best agent hasn’t got anything better to do than complaining about his partner.“ Ironically, he laid a hand on Crawford’s shoudler. „He’ll understand, I’m certain.“ 

„What Agent Crowley actually wanted to say is that we both have no idea why we were sent here.“, Jack answered to remedy the situation as he saw the agent narrowing his eyes. 

„That’s not completely true“, Crowley interrupted and Jack couldn’t help but roll with his eyes in annoyance. „We’re here to prove the extraordinary happenings, the killers’ family reported.“

„What happenings?“, Crawford asked.

„For example the ghosts in their house.“ 


End file.
